


unraveled at the seams

by sublimation



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Clothed Sex, D/s undertones, F/M, PWP, Praise Kink, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Frustration, quickie sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 14:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12683457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sublimation/pseuds/sublimation
Summary: Allura feels the pent up tension pulling taut between them any time they share a room, no matter how diligently they avoid lingering eye contact or how far they deliberately stand apart.





	unraveled at the seams

They haven’t had a moment alone in weeks. They just don’t get time to themselves in between missions and training and spearheading a revolution. Allura feels the pent up tension pulling taut between them any time they share a room, no matter how diligently they avoid lingering eye contact or how far they deliberately stand apart.

She supposes there will never be time for it if she doesn’t make time.

Allura sits next to Shiro at dinner that day. Her left hand brings a crystal goblet up to her lips while her right caresses his thigh beneath the table. She wishes she could see his face as her fingertips slip between his legs and brush their way down the inside of his thigh, but Allura keeps her eyes on Hunk and Lance across the table as they share a story about yesterday’s events with the team. Only Shiro knows what she’s thinking about.

They leave the dining chamber as a group. Allura lets herself fall slightly behind Coran and the other paladins. Shiro follows her lead, subconsciously, she thinks. Because she doesn’t think he expects her to take advantage of the few precious seconds of privacy when the team turns the corner—But Allura does it. She tugs Shiro by the wrist before he makes the turn and pins him against the wall in a heated kiss. And, you know, Allura knew she was frustrated, but didn’t expect to be struck by the full blown force of how much she’s _aching_ for this. The taste of his tongue sends a hot pulse of helpless need thrumming all the way down her back. If it stuns him, he doesn’t waste any of their limited time showing it. Allura pushes a thigh between his legs and does her best to kiss him senseless until a voice down the hall inevitably (still, far too soon) asks, “Where’s the princess?”

She breaks apart swiftly, almost clinically, and sweeps around the corner with the best indifferent expression she can muster. “Right here."

Shiro doesn’t follow right away. He doesn’t turn the corner for a while, actually. Allura smiles to herself. She imagines him still right up against that wall, swallowing back desire, and struggling to collect himself. The thought delivers a swift kick of heat low in her gut.

It’s just them and Coran working in the bridge that night. They focus on the tasks at hand. They stay on either side of Coran and don’t look up from their information screens when they talk to each other.

When they reach a repair issue, Coran volunteers to go out to get it done. “I’ll fetch numbers two and five to run diagnostics on those outer panels right away.”

For the first time since entering that room, Allura and Shiro look at each other. Something lights up in Shiro’s eyes and Allura has to fight to keep the excitement off her face.

She responds to Coran as casually as she can manage. “Sure, if you prefer to do that now.”

“Yeah, if you want to,” Shiro echoes.

“I’d say you two can handle the next few bullets without me.” Coran nods and swipes the holo screen to display his bulleted list of matters to attend to. “There you go. Multitasking!”

He flounces out of the room without a look back. The moment the doors click shut behind him, Allura marches straight through the hologram of his list. She grabs Shiro by the face and kisses him, feeling like her knees are already on the verge of buckling from smothered need. In that same motion, she pushes him into the chair at his station and drops onto his lap.

He grunts against her lips when his back hits the chair, but Shiro’s arms instinctively wind around her waist nonetheless. She can’t hear common sense telling her this isn’t the place to be doing this, not over the tantalizing sound of their mouths meeting and parting in short, hot bursts. No one has _ever_ made her feel this charged, this urgent.

Through the folds of her dress, she feels a hardness already beginning to swell in the space beneath her thighs and is confident Shiro feels at least somewhat the same.

The tip of his nose nuzzles her ear and exhales warm breath over the sensitive skin. His tongue traces slick and hot down the shell. Desire drips down her spine with the sound of each breath panted right into her ear. Then Shiro’s front teeth gently close around the soft flesh of her lobe—

and tug. Allura’s breath catches in a strangled gasp. Her hips grind down of their own accord and, with his mouth on her ear like this, she hears it perfectly when Shiro forgets to breathe for just a moment.

In an unspoken decision, two pairs of hands reach for Allura’s skirt at the same time. She laughs beneath her breath at how clumsily they maneuver her long dress out of the way, arms knocking together and hands getting lost in the endless fabric. The laugh turns into a gasp of delight halfway, when Shiro’s fingers find the bare skin of her inner thigh beneath the skirt.

“ _Wow,_ already?” he says when he feels just how wet her underwear is despite not having been touched.

“It’s been a _long_ month—and I’m not wowed _yet_ ,” she teases, then rolls into his touch to make her point.

Shiro obliges. He alternates between sliding two fingers down along the length of her and tracing his thumb over her clit in maddening little circles. Her mind isn’t sure what to focus on: His hand or the door? She goes with the first, but the choice isn’t entirely voluntary. Weeks spent without his touch, without a chance to be intimate, have her oversensitive at the rush of it all. So much that his hand through the fabric of her underwear is all it takes to go from wet to soaked.

She could come just from this. But is that really what she waited all this time for?

“Get your cock out for me.”

Shiro reacts with a sound as if he’s been wounded and falls apart into stutters. “Wh—Oh? That—What?— _God_. Here?”

“ _Mmhm_.” She can’t help but smirk at him in a way that’s a little bit smug and a little bit wicked as she places her hands on his shoulders.

“ _Now?_ ”

She rises to her knees on the seat, giving the space he needs to unbuckle his belt. “ _Mmhm_.”

She would do it herself, but _his_ hands are _already_ under the bunched up mountains of her dress and it’s a bit of a mission to get there. He looks away to shoot a glance at the door behind him.

Allura catches his jaw in her palm before his face turns completely aside and brings his eyes back on her. “Shiro, please, I don’t care, I _need_ —I need you.”

She’s squirming with a brutal desire to just fuck him already and his face is honestly so lovely she can hardly stand it. Allura bows her head to capture his mouth in a kiss as that feeling (the dazed realization of how wildly attractive she finds Shiro) overwhelms her. Beneath her skirts, she hears the jingle of his belt coming undone, the whisper of his zipper being pulled. She groans low in her throat when his stiff length brushes up against the inside of her thigh.

“It’s so hot,” she can’t help whispering with subdued awe. Hot as in the _temperature_. It throbs feverishly, almost burning her skin. She thinks of that heat inside her and all coherent thoughts left in her mind immediately go foggy. “I need it _now_.”

Shiro obliges. He pulls her panties aside with one hand and holds his cock steady with the other. Allura sinks down and the feeling of Shiro pushing in, of herself spreading open tight to take him in, lights up every nerve like its own shooting star. She slams down on him and they both cry out.

 _“Fuck_! This is seriously happening right here—”

“Oh, it’s _happening_.”

She’s rough with him, riding hard and heavy and frantic. Shiro pants hot and wet up against her collarbone, the hands beneath her dress helplessly holding on to her ass as she pounds him. They can’t last at this pace, and she’s dizzy with how fast this entire situation turned about, but she refuses to slow. She’s frenzied by the relief of it, the pleasure of it, the passion pouring out of them. They missed each other. She can feel it. The desperate yearning to be together, despite them standing right next to each other every day. It takes the breath out of her lungs in fluttering, airy moans.

Allura’s petite and Shiro is huge; it’s never hard for them to find an angle where he can hit just the spot with nearly every thrust. Especially when she’s on top. She drives into it once—“Ah!”—twice—“Shiro _,_ ”—he bucks up on the third time— _“Shiro!”_

The world dims until nothing but Shiro is left in it. A wild roar of pressure, of release, takes her away from herself. She loses all coordination as climax overcomes her, but Shiro’s got her. He keeps rolling his hips up into her as she sinks against his broad chest, full body trembling and twitching. She feels him come shortly after, while she’s still shuddering through aftershocks, but at least has regained enough sense to hold his face and kiss him through it. All the while panting little praises against his lips, “ _Oh, you feel so good. I missed this. I need you so much._ ”

Their breath is the ragged, dry-mouthed gasping of two people worn out far too quickly. Shiro’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes are glazed, his clothes are rumpled, and he looks like sex.

Oh.

The adoring expression on Shiro’s face switched to _alarmed_ at about the same moment Allura’s did.

“Um,” he said.

“Er,” she said.

“God, we didn’t even get a single piece of clothing off.”

Allura covers her face, suddenly embarrassed. “We did it in the _middle_ of the _bridge_.”

“You’re still on my lap.”

“We’re filthy, what’s wrong with us?”

“Allura, _please_ , I want to zip up before Coran gets back.”

“Oh!”


End file.
